Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(68)

“I’ll stay,” I say, giving him a tiny smile. “But not because you’re my boss. Because I want to stay.”

His sexy lips quirk and he reaches for his coffee but doesn’t take a drink. He sets it back down, the full force of his attention on me. “I don’t wake up with women in my bed.”

While he has inferred as much, I am surprised and pleased by this announcement. “I’m no different.”

“You went on the pill for someone.”

“Paranoia,” I say honestly, clinging to every truth I can tell him. “I was afraid of getting pregnant, since becoming a single mom and trying to go to school didn’t seem exactly smart.”

“But you were in a relationship.”

“I thought I was, but I was confused.”

His brow furrows. “Now I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth.”

I can’t muster a smile. “That part of my life is not my shining glory.” As with the present day, I add silently before explaining. “He was my college professor and didn’t tell me he was married.”

“How badly did he hurt you?”

“I found out the day after my mother was killed in a car accident. It was a blow.”

“I’m beginning to see you more clearly,” he says. And before I can ask what he means, he’s already moving on, “What did you do about the professor?”

“Nothing.”

“You should have reported him.”

“In hindsight, maybe, but I was not in a good place, and I darn sure didn’t want to hear I had daddy issues.”

“Lots of people date older.”

“Yes, but my father was…” I catch myself before I say a law professor and invite questions I can’t answer.

“Your father was what?” he prods.

“Within his circle,” I say, avoiding a question about where he taught. “So I brilliantly rebounded with a tattoo artist who was younger than me.”

“And yet you have no ink.”

“Oh, he tried to convince me to remedy that. But you know, it felt more like a commitment to him, which I wasn’t going to make, than a tattoo.” I sip my coffee. “I told you my history. Your turn.”

“I was engaged to another law student,” he says, delivering a bombshell I don’t expect.

“Engaged. That’s pretty intense.”

“Not really. I was young and the pairing fit an image I had formed in my mind of my life and career at the time, which was total bullshit. We ended badly, and after that, I let my career take over, and kept things simple with women.”

I tell myself not to ask, but I can’t help myself. “Simple how?”

“Women I have agreements with up front.”

“Agreements,” I say, a bit stunned. “That’s cold, Counselor.”

“Not if it’s what they wanted too.”

“That never backfired?”

“I never allowed one the chance.” He gives me a thoughtful look. “Interesting enough though, with you, I was the one who never had a chance.”

“Funny,” I say, my stomach fluttering. “I thought the same about me.”

Flecks of blue glint in his gray eyes, telling me I’ve pleased him, and I am surprised how much this pleases me as well. “Then it’s mutual,” he says, “but actually, there is one agreement I think we should make.”

“Agreement,” I repeat, the word promising me an escape from the dangers of too much intimacy, while I simply feel like a fool. “I don’t need an agreement, Shane. I told you. I understand—”

“Apparently you don’t understand, or you wouldn’t be about to say what you’re about to say.” He leans closer. “Emily. Let me be clear. I want you. And not just in bed.”

“Why?”

“It’s indefinable. It’s just you.”

“But you just said—”

“That we need one agreement. That being, if at any time my brother makes you feel uncomfortable at work tomorrow, you do not stand alone. You text me, call me, or come to my office.”

My relief at how wrong I was comes at me far too intensely for the short time I’ve known this man. “I can handle Derek.”

“You’re strong, but he’s vicious. I know I told you not to come to me at work, but that was before we were outed, and this is now. If you—”

“I will.”

“He will trick you and play with your head.”

“He’s already tried.”

“He’ll try again.”

“He’ll fail.”

“You come to me.” His cell phone buzzes and his gaze flicks to his screen, and he immediately reaches for it. “I need to take this call, but we’re not done talking about Derek, or my father, for that matter.” He stands. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod and track his path across the coffee shop to step outside, obviously not wanting me to hear his conversation. He has secrets too, I realize, but that’s expected. We’ve not known each other long, and he’s trusted me in ways I believe he reserves for few others. And he has no idea the many reasons I have to trust no one, and yet … I want to trust him. But it’s not as simple as that, nor is my secret about trust. It’s about the damage it could do to him. That I could do to him.